


Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes

by ninhursag



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: Sweet Charity, F/M, Pegging, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dorm prank war gets out of hand and Jessica Lee Moore meets a tall, handsome stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Pegging. Playful BDSM. Suggestions of incest.
> 
> Notes: Um. Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes just means 'the war of all against all'.   
> Big thank yous to my awesome betas, [](http://sloane-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**sloane_m**](http://sloane-m.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mutelorelei.livejournal.com/profile)[**mutelorelei**](http://mutelorelei.livejournal.com/) . And thank you, Libby, for pre-reading and giving me a foundation to start fixing this story. You know you rock, babe.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[supernatural](http://vaingirlfic.livejournal.com/tag/supernatural), [sweet charity](http://vaingirlfic.livejournal.com/tag/sweet+charity)  
  
---|---  
  
__

"This sucks," Jess told a tall unfamiliar kid while they were both waiting for an elevator. He raised an eyebrow. "I mean it," she said. "It's like there's some life leaching monster in the basement sucking all the fun out of college. It's the only explanation."

The tall kid frowned. His eyes were an uncertain hazel green against the bright blue of his sweater, like they might be another color entirely given a different background. "You think so?" he asked, like she was bringing up some really interesting point. "This isn't… this isn't normal?"

"It better not be," Jess growled. "What the hell kind of college thing is it when everyone's depressed the first few weeks? It's like we've all been smothered by a 50's horror movie." The elevator showed no sign of showing up, so she kicked listlessly at the closed door.

The kid looked away. "Oh," he said quietly. "I thought that was just me."

"Well, it's not," Jess muttered. "Some kid on the third floor had a breakdown and had to be dragged down to student health. Hell, even my roommate is writing goth poetry. And she's a frigging ex-cheerleader."

The kid leaned forward and his bangs flopped over his eyes, but he didn't add anything.

"And me. I'm not actually like this," Jess added and then shook her head. "Whiny. Gloomy. Whatever." She kicked at the elevator again. It hurt her toe. "It's probably broken again. That's not damned fucking normal either."

"Huh," the tall kid said and shook his head. "Guess someone should look into that."

The next morning, Jess woke up feeling a lot sunnier and it wasn't just the actual sun in her face that made her smile. That was right up until her roommate Rebecca came slamming into the room, screaming about how some asshole had put gum in the dryer. Rebecca held up a sticky, stained shirt for Jess to look at and started wailing.

"Wow," Jess muttered. "That sucks, man." She bit her lower lip and tried not to grin. Gum in the dryer, huh? Sounded like something Jess' little brother might have pulled. Like the opening salvo in some sick little prank war.

Of course, it turned out it really was just the opening salvo. Next there was that cheathouse.com thing. And that? Was pretty funny, if only for the look on Mr. 'I was the valedictorian of my high school class, let me tell you about it' Mike Parker's face when his 'A paper' was posted on every bulletin board on the floor with a url on the bottom.

Jess knew the tall boy without a name liked it too, because she caught him sniggering in the background when Mike saw his paper. For some reason that made it funnier.

Then there was the garlic powder in the coffee maker. On a day she had a nine am exam. That? Not okay. That was enough to have raised a lynch mob on the floor, if only they could find enough torches and a target.

The last straw for Jess was Johnny, who lived on her floor. Johnny with the uncorrectable by normal technology vision. Johnny who winged her in the arm with a fucking b-b gun while she was coming back from the shower. Jess screamed shortly and clapped her hand to her shoulder, feeling the hot welt rising already. "You little bastard," she hissed.

Johnny turned white. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I got a note on my door saying to shoot or else and then there was a-- I didn't meant it! I'm sorry, Jess, I didn't see you."

"Bastard," Jess repeated, louder. "I'm gonna beat you to death with that thing!" It turned out Johnny actually could run fast, especially for one of the pasty engineering kids. Whether he could see straight or not. Little bastard.

So of course, then it was war. Not just any war, it was destroy the fascists-style total war. Somebody had a sick, sick sense of humor and Jessica Moore wasn't one to brag, but fuck if she hadn't been the valedictorian of her own high school class. She was going to find out who did it and have their ass.

"It's the war of all versus all, man, like Spinoza said," a very earnest basketball player with dark, excited eyes told Jess when she asked him if he'd seen anything. "Except with pranks. I wrote my final paper for AP English on the phenomenon."

Jess half nodded and tried not make any encouraging noises or to tell him he was an idiot and thinking about Hobbes and not Spinoza at all. No way was this her guy. No one this excited, and this wrong about dead philosophers was going to be putting gum in the dryer. She didn't think. "So, this means you didn't see anyone hanging around the coffee with packets of garlic, huh?" Jess asked.

"Just that really tall kid. Seth? Sam? I don't think it was him, though, he's really quiet. Keeps to himself."

Tall kid. Jess nodded thoughtfully. "Tall, quiet, keeps to himself. Must be a serial killer!" she said.

The jock kid blinked at her, but didn't have a chance to say anything before Jess gave him a cheery wave and ran for it. Jess was so quick in making her escape that she backed right into the very tall kid she was pretty sure she was looking for.

Her books scattered when they collided, including her paper-stuffed lab notebook and she glared at the boy. He might be gorgeous, but garlic in the coffee? Was not okay.

"Shit, sorry," the tall boy said and grinned down at her. Jess noticed right away that his smile was as pretty as his eyes. Maybe he could make it up to her. Or she could just make him regret his serial killer existence.

"No problem, I should have watched where I was going," Jess said and batted her eyelashes. He kept right on smiling. Then he bent over and started picking up Jess' scattered papers, and giving her a very, very nice view of his backside when he did it.

She bit her lower lip and chewed it thoughtfully while he deposited her things in her hands. He was definitely gorgeous, but maybe she had to be sure of him. "You know the difference between Hobbes and Spinoza, right?" she blurted out suddenly.

The kid's eyebrows went all the way up. "One was an agnostic Jew and the other one was an English heretic?" he offered without really pausing to think.

Jess shrugged. Well, at least the garlic depositing serial killers weren't stupid here at Stanford. "Good enough," she said. "I'm Jessica Moore. Want to have coffee with me?"

The kid laughed. His teeth were blindingly bright when he smiled all the way and Jess couldn't have resisted smiling back if her life depended on it. "Sam Winchester. Are there going to be any more pop quizzes on dead philosophers? Because if there aren't, I might be kind of disappointed."

"That can be arranged," Jess said, very seriously. "I'll meet you at the Union." Sam laughed even louder and they shook on the coffee idea, sealing the deal. She thought maybe she might forgive Sam Winchester. Maybe. The sex was definitely going to have to be awesome though.

Sam was waiting for her at the Student Union, thumbing through a worn out looking book on Latin grammar. He looked up when she got close. He was smiling as wide and open as before.

"Hey," he said. "Sit down, and I'll get us drinks, okay? What do you want?"

"Just coffee, with cream and sugar," Jess said and settled down in the seat across from him. "No garlic," she added quickly. Then she wished she hadn't said that, because, hello, suspicious. Then again, maybe it was okay. No one in their dorm was going to forget the garlic. He grinned and nodded.

She took a few seconds to thumb through his book while he was gone and then stopped abruptly. Right there, being used as a bookmark, was a little Wal-Mart receipt, duly noting the purchase of b-b guns. Jess' teeth started to grind.

When Sam came back with two steaming cups of coffee, Jess gave him a low, narrow eyed glare. He blinked. "Did I do something?" he asked, all innocent confusion that reminded Jess so much of her little brother it was all she could do not to smack him one.

"I don't know," she said, and held up the offending receipt. "Did you?"

Sam sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead. He almost looked sad. Which would have worked if he weren't responsible for the whole thing. "Yeah, about that," he muttered.

Jess tapped her fingernails against the plastic of the tabletop. She might not have looked like it, but she was listening. More or less.

"You wouldn't happen to believe that there was a boggle in the dorm basement that was sucking the life out of everyone?" Sam said, in this little-boy hopeful voice. His eyes got really big and pathetic, like that was going to charm her.

Jess snorted. No puppy eyes were going to work on her. "Wait. I've played this D&amp;D module. You have to confuse it with pranks to make it go away, right?"

Sam gave a thin smile and scratched the back of his neck. "Yes?" he said, like it was a huge question.

Jess rolled her eyes. "O-kay. Seriously. Give me one good reason I shouldn't report you to the RA and get your ass expelled? I am deadly serious here, Sam."

Sam spread his palms wide, as if to indicate surrender, and shook his head. It would have looked a lot more remorseful if it weren't for the flicker of playful speculation in his hazel-green eyes. "I don't know, Jessica Moore. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you? Homework? Laundry? Be your slave?"

Jess sucked in her lower lip and tilted her head slightly to one side. Well, she had said she was going to get someone's ass for this. Sam had a really nice ass. If he was serious. "My slave?" she asked, leaning forward onto her hands and staring him up and down. "You think you can handle that?"

Sam's eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, but he met her frank gaze head on, with a speculative expression. It took some looking, but he seemed to catch whatever he needed to go on. His lashes fluttered for a flicker of a second and then he dropped his gaze. "Maybe," he murmured.

"Someone," Jess said waspishly, "Put garlic in my coffee. And got me shot with a b-b gun. If they were my slave, they'd have to be punished for that."

"I can see where that would be very important." Sam didn't look up, but his mouth curved into a small, almost Buddha-like smile. Jess' fingers tightened on her coffee cup and she imagined him on his hands and knees, ass red, and looking over his shoulder at her. She wondered if he'd still be smiling like that then. She didn't want to wonder, she wanted to know.

Jess had always liked a challenge. "Someone's a pushy bottom," she said and waited just a second. Just to be sure she was reading this right, was reading Sam right.

"At least I know the difference between Hobbes and Spinoza," Sam murmured, the light hint of a challenge in his tone.

Jess slid one foot out of her flip flop and ran a bare toe up his legs before settling it between his thighs. Sam shifted and slouched down in his seat, giving her better access without her needing to say a word.

"You won't when we're done," she promised and then pushed the toe down hard. Sam made a low, whimpering sound, just short of pain, but his smile didn't fade. She could feel his cock stiffen under her foot.

"Promises are cheap," he gasped out. "Heard 'em before, Jessica Moore."

Jess laughed. "You can call me, ma'am," she said and eased off, just a little bit.

Sam straightened up, and smiled. "I could. But I won't until you make me," he whispered, low and easy. And Jess caught fire just from that, from his tone and the look on his pretty face. She wondered if the whole cafe could smell her, could smell him. Jealous bastards, probably. If they could.

"Wait until you meet my six inch boyfriend," Jess said and grinned at the look on Sam's face and the way he shifted where he sat when her suggestion hit him.

"We could do that," he said and shook his head.

About an hour later, locked in her room with a chair under the door knob to keep her roommate out, Jess figured the world was probably dying of jealousy of her and she could handle that just fine. As long as she was the one who had Sam Winchester on his hands and knees, she could handle a lot.

Sam had obviously been fucked before. Even so lube slicked he glistened, his ass could never have been this open otherwise.

"Greedy little hole," Jess gasped, as much from the sight as the friction of the harness against her body. The length of her dildo slid inside him but she was the one who moaned. Slow, but easy as butter. So pretty, watching it disappear into his ass like a magic trick, his body clenching around it. "You've been keeping it occupied."

Sam groaned and tossed his head, not bothering to answer with the obvious. Messy bangs covered his eyes and Jess was half tempted to braid them like a girl's so he couldn't hide. "Pretty hair," she told him, and tugged his head back toward herself with a handful of that hair, uncovering his face and the smooth, tanned arc of his neck.

Sam turned his head to look back at her. Jess could see his cock jerk, so pretty just like that. Red as his ass, and pressed tight against his stomach. He was flushed and panting, but still smiling, mysterious as Buddha. She smacked his hand away when he tried to touch himself. The crack of flesh just made him smile wider. Jess was the one who whined and thrust her hips forward, pushing the dildo deeper, grinding it into them both.

Sam's hand reached down again. Long pretty fingers. Jess smacked it harder. His smile barely faltered, but-- "Jess," Sam hissed. "Please. My cock. Can I touch it?"

"Ma'am," Jess whispered in his ear. "Call me, ma'am."

Sam shook his head and Jess gritted her teeth and pulled her hips out before slamming back in hard. He made a low moaning sound. "Ma'am. Please," he finally said, low enough she could barely hear over his harsh breathing.

"Louder," she murmured. She leaned close and ran a hand down his stomach, but not further. Almost playfully tongued the lobe of his ear and then bit down hard.

He jerked so roughly he almost bucked her off and Jess had to dig her fingers into his sides, feeling the rough texture of scars and the smooth muscle flex under her touch. She moaned.

"Ma'am," he screamed, sharp as a soldier on a parade ground. "Ma'am."

Jess pressed her cheek against the back of his neck, her breasts against the soft skin and tight muscle of his back, and wrapped her hand around his cock, as much as she could of it. Her insides ached, wanting to feel that between her legs. She could feel the imaginary burn of it, hot and fleshy wet, so different from the unyielding feel of a dildo. If she could have she wanted to take it off and wear it, use it to fuck him.

She wanted. She wanted him to spill out in her hands and he did, wet and dirty slick. She thrust again and again before she came hard, almost as much from the sight and smell of him as the feel of his body. It felt good. Even after, collapsing against him felt good.

He wasn't smiling that same way anymore and he rested his cheek on the pillow and watched her in an almost soft-eyed way that Jess hadn't expected.

He looked so sweet in the afterward, that she kissed the back of neck and brushed the sweaty hair off his forehead. "Pretty," she whispered. He snorted and rolled his eyes but he didn't pull away. She looked at him, at his body. It was different, touching him without the urgency of before. It was easier to look at things and see what she hadn't looked at before.

She kept petting, stroking down the lines of his spine, tracing the white lines of scar tissue. It was almost abstract art, a spider web of lines, thick and thin, worn and jagged. It would have held its own kind of beauty, if it wasn't carved into human skin. She didn't know how she felt about it. Sick, or sorry, or so wet she was dripping. She didn't know if she hated herself for that, or for which part.

He was beautiful and she hadn't quite seen how much until just now. "You have a lot of scars," she whispered. She could feel him shrug, but he didn't say anything, so she kept going, kept touching.

She didn't stop until she reached the curve of his spine, right where his back dipped and then swelled out into that incredible ass. There was another mark there, deliberate. Black ink and simple lettering.

"D.W.," Jess whispered, reading the letters. "Who's D.W.?"

Sam shrugged again and didn't turn to look at her. "My long lost identical twin," he said, with a cheer so fake she knew he was fucking with her. He didn't deny it was a person.

"Girlfriend?" Jess asked. Sam rolled his eyes. "Boyfriend?" she tried again. He flinched at that, for the first time. Jess flinched too, from surprise.

"No," he said. "No. He wasn't my boyfriend."

"Your dom?" Jess asked. It wasn't until she saw the look on Sam's face that she realized she'd just gone too far off an edge she hadn't seen.

He looked stark, worn out, not like an eighteen-year-old kid anymore. Not even one with scars like his. "No," he said. "He didn't want that. Not from me."

Jess opened her mouth to say something else, but Sam pushed her aside. He probably hadn't meant to push hard, but she winced at the impact of his hand on her shoulder and rubbed at the skin. "Sorry," Sam muttered, but he didn't look at her. "Sorry. Look, this isn't-- I should go."

Jess shook her head. She didn't know why this felt important, but it did. She doubted this was something she'd get chance two at. She didn't want to lose. She didn't know. It was something. "I'm the one who's sorry, Sam. I-- don't."

"Don't what?" Sam asked. His mouth curled, but he stopped in the middle of pulling up his jeans. "Don't what, Jess?"

"Don't go. Stay," she whispered. Sam didn't move, but he didn't put down his clothes either. Jess shook her head and thought as quickly as she could. "How the hell did you get Johnny to shoot an actual b-b gun? Come on, you owe it to me to tell me."

Sam snorted and looked away. Then back at her. Their eyes met and suddenly, for no actual reason, she started giggling. Sam stared at her like she'd lost his mind but two seconds later he was laughing too. Just snickering at first, then outright laughing.

"B-B gun," Jess howled hysterically. "Oh my god. You lunatic." Sam was laughing too hard to say anything at all and Jess thought that it was going to work out.

She knew she was right when Sam curled up next to her a while later and she snuggled closer, pressing her forehead into the hollow of his shoulder. "Thanks, Jess," he whispered, so soft she almost didn't hear him at all. "I really needed that. You have no idea."

"He was an idiot," she whispered back. "D.W. Or whoever. Not to want you."

Sam shook his head, but he didn't move away and Jess found she could breathe out. "No, it wasn't… he did, I know he did. Just not like that." He sounded like he was lying. Like he thought he was lying. Jess didn't call him on it, because what did she know, really? Nothing. Not even enough to tell off a jock who didn't know Hobbes from Spinoza.

Nothing.

A while later-- Jess counted twenty-five long, slow exhales. She was half-asleep and tracing her fingertips over one particularly thick, nasty scar. Shiny, like it had been a burn. "Was there really a boggle in the basement?" she mumbled.

"No," Sam mumbled back. He pressed his hand over hers, covering all her fingers and the full length of the scar. "We're all alone in the dark. Everyone is safe. Everyone loves us."

"Really?" she asked softly.

Sam's hand tightened around hers. "No. Hobbes was right. War of all against all," he sounded half asleep now. Maybe he was still lying. Maybe not.

Jess tried not to worry about it. She slept. In the morning, Sam brought her coffee, no garlic, in her favorite mug.

"So is the boggle dead yet?" she asked. Sam laughed and gave a helpless shrug.

"Man, I hope so," he said. "If everyone else on the floor tries to have me make it up to them the same way, I'll die of exhaustion."

That weekend, Sam got her a fake ID and they went out for jello shots. She did her Calc III homework with his back for scratch paper. The long line of his spine was the y-axis and she drew the x in the thick blue ink that dribbled from an expensive pen.

'Let's go out' Jess wrote on his skin where the solution set should have gone.

"I thought we already were," Sam murmured when she was finished writing. His eyes were closed and he hadn't read the words, but he'd felt them.

"Yeah," Jess said. They shook on it.

She had a boyfriend. She didn't ask about D.W. again, because she wasn't sure she could keep him if she did. When she found a picture of a green-eyed boy smiling around the giant hot-dog he was trying to stuff into his mouth crumbled and buried in the bottom of Sam's duffel bag, she didn't ask.

"That's Dean," Sam told her anyway, when he caught her looking. "My brother Dean."

Jess looked into the smiling face of Dean Winchester. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.


End file.
